A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. “I will put the question,” Drummond said gravely. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn. ‘Before she can think of marriage, Melusine must prove her identity. I know why. \" he replied, though it was obvious that he was lying. And here she was—in a mess because it had been impossible for her to avoid leaning upon another man. "She's glorious!" He knew that he must hoodwink this keeneyed Scot, even as he must hoodwink everybody: publicly, the devoted husband; privately, the celibate.
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